


Hit Undo on a Game of Cat and Mouse

by GomorrahHillsides (Within_N_Without)



Series: Autocorrect [3]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Champ Box, Cum Eating, Danny's Guilt, Danny's Paranoia, Hurt Danny "Danno" Williams, Light D/s, M/M, Permanent Solutions, Protective Steve McGarrett, Rimming, Smut, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 23:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12899430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Within_N_Without/pseuds/GomorrahHillsides
Summary: Jenna Kaye is, in Danny's world view, the herald of the apocalypse. Everything gets harder from this moment on. There are so many things to remember if he wants to avoid the things that happened the first time around.  But, the possibilities are limited when your Priority One enemy is Wo Fat.Whatever the cost, though, he'll pay it. Danny won't let Steve be the fly in Wo Fat's web, even if it has to be him instead.





	Hit Undo on a Game of Cat and Mouse

**Author's Note:**

> * Disclaimer - I own nothing * 
> 
> First off, sorry for any mistakes. I'm sure there's plenty. I write scenes out of order and then try my best to go back and remember which parts needed editing. 
> 
> Also, sorry if this is sort of plot-light or if the parts that are smut are bad / poorly writ. I don't have any sense of whether it's any good. If you're in this for the plot, it's the middle you'll want to skip. In particular, stop after Steve takes Danny hope and it's safe to start where Chin and Kono get mentioned again. Or, I guess Chin and Kono are the barometer in this one. 
> 
> The next chapter is set to have more plot, unless I screw it up. 
> 
> Also, let me know if you think of any tags I should add to this story. I'm not great at coming up with them. Don't think there are any triggers in this chapter, but how would I know? 
> 
> And, finally, THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR LEAVING COMMENTS AND KUDOS!!!! It means so much to me. You have no idea. ^_^
> 
> References  
> S1E19 - Jenna arrives  
> S1E20 - Wo Fat in the noodle shop
> 
> Story So Far: 
> 
> Danny told Steve about the time travel  
> Danny let his brother get arrested  
> Danny and Steve started a (so far) PG relationship  
> Jenna has arrived

 

"No, no, no, no, no," Danny's muttering, as soon as he steps into the office. Oh god, here is where it starts. 

"What, you know her?" Steve asks.

Swallowing hard, Danny nods. Because the woman they are both staring at as she paces in Steve's office is Jenna Kaye. 

"Her name is Jenna Kaye. She's a low-level analyst for the CIA."

"And she's here because?" Steve asks, watching her pace. 

Jenna hasn't spotted them yet. 

"She wants to save her fiancé from Wo Fat. Initially, she tries to trick you into giving her information. You call her bluff and hire her to analyze things for Five-0 and your Champ box. And then...bad things happen." 

"To me?" Steve guesses, reading the stare Danny levels at him. 

"Yes, and we are not doing those bad things again."

"Danny, bad things are going to happen in life," Steve says, like it's a fact Danny is not painfully aware of.

"Thank you, Steven. I did not realize that. I've been living under Hawaii's plethora of rainbows for so long that I forgot crime and death existed. Please be sure to remind me if I forget again!" 

And up go the spooked horse hands. "Whoa, it's nine in the morning. Relax, breathe...before you give yourself a heart attack. I'm just saying, some bad things are unavoidable. You can't feel guilty about every flyball you don't catch. "

Steve's edging around the argument they've had a few times already. 

For some of the cases, Danny remembers enough of the details that he's pretty sure he could prevent them from happening in the first place. But then the bad guy wouldn't get caught and maybe someone else would become the victim. Still, Danny calls in (possibly misremembered) anonymous tips to HPD when he's sure it won't pull resources away from real crime. And when he's less than sure, Danny tries to be at the right time and place to catch those crimes while they're in-progress. 

What does a Navy SEAL have in common with a mother hen? 

Well, it's not the laying of eggs.

Steve knows about the anonymous tips, but not the rest, and yet he still worries. For some reason, when Danny feels guilty or down, it pings on SuperSEAL's protective radar. 

It's sweet. But it also means Danny's in for over-protective Steve-style sanctions if the man ever discovers his late-night excursions. For now, though, the point is moot, because they have bigger fish to fry.

_Much_ bigger fish. 

Whales, really.

No way is Danny going to let Steve turn into Captain Nemo. He shoos the SEAL towards his office. "Just, go deal with her. She's going to lie. You can call her on it now and get her working for us, save some time. And make her tell you about Hesse."

"Hesse? As in – "

"Yes, that Hesse."

"But what does – "

"I will tell you everything I remember, but first get her out of here!" Danny gestures sharply, pushing Steve when he doesn't move fast enough. 

Steve gives him a look that clearly says,  _We're_ _talking about this_ _later_. 

Danny rolls his eyes and stalks into his office. There's a 30-gallon storage container in the corner. He's compiled it in the past two months. 

Memory is a fickle thing. It's an imperfect storage system that fails people at the best of times. It doesn't have a user interface. It's not viewable on any screen. It's not something you can easily search or sort. And people's memories work differently. Are triggered by different things. 

When Danny realized he'd be needing any and all scraps of what he remembers, he started compiling notes, memory triggers, lists, and photographs. Hell, it's kind of his own Champ Box. Cryptic and half-useless unless you're Danny, without amnesia. 

He adds to it constantly, when something happens to jog his memory. Carries paper in his pockets these days so he can write notes to put in the box. He's got back up copies of everything stored on his phone and in the cloud, too.

But he likes having a physical box to go to. Just opening the lid feels like the first step in a ritual. It's a bit of a meditative exercise these days. Danny actually has incense in his desk that he lights when he's alone in the office. He'd found on the internet that meditation sometimes makes memories easier to access. He's not sure how the incense fits in. It makes the whole floor smell like a church.

He would've stopped using them, but McGarrett makes the best face when he catches the scent. It's such a joy to watch him stalk around the office, sniffing every available surface with this intense, laser-focused expression on his face. Danny lights the scented sticks in different locations throughout Five-0 and the surrounding offices when SuperSEAL isn't around and the smell lingers. And no one suspects Danny because it's relatively well-established that he's not spiritual. 

His bruised back protests as Danny leans over the storage container, digging through the makeshift compartments as he hunts down the objects and files he'd found reminiscent of Wo Fat. Only a few of the objects are labeled with dates. 

Danny hadn't known he was going to wake up one day and be starting over his career with Five-0. It's lucky that he hadn't been working new cases after Steve's death. Just reviewing paperwork and wallowing in old memories, tripping over reminders of Steve and the cases they worked together. Unlike the way he's memorized facts and statistics and dates about his favorite sports teams and various games and tournaments, he does not have the cases memorized. 

Some, he actively tries to forget.

Only the most harrowing memory triggers are dated. Other memory triggers have titles on them – case descriptions so that Danny knows when the reminder might become relevant if a precursor case shows up in the paper or gets routed to Five-0. 

"Hey, what are you doing?" Steve asks, stepping around a few piles Danny has arranged on the floor, each one consisting of either document jackets or little baggies of largely innocuous knickknacks Danny collected from the toy aisle of the dollar store or harvested from Steve's house. 

"Cersei," Steve reads, picking up one of the baggies at his feet. One of the things inside is a Kodak film canister. The canister holds a strip of film on which a case description is written in white out, to remind Danny when exactly Steve had gone after the microfiche with his mother. 

Danny schools his face from a wince. Is Game of Thrones on TV yet? If it is, Five-0 doesn't really have the time to watch it. Danny got the chance when...just, when. It served as a distraction during the times when his laptop needed a break from him. Like when the keys needed some time to dry from the copious dribbles of salt water Danny couldn't prevent from wetting it. Hopefully, Steve never connects the reference. 

"I'm compiling my notes for the conversation we're going to have after the Captain Fallout case."

"Captain who?"

"Don't worry, Max will fill you in," Danny says. He squints up at Steve, trying to remember if anything went wrong during this case. Assuming Steve decides to invite Danny to the petroglyphs, Steve will soon break his arm if Danny lets him climb down the cliff. 

Danny's not sure what had inspired that trip. Looking back on the memory with the perspective Steve's given him on McGarrett-style romantic overtures, Danny's pretty sure it had been intended as a date, which begs the question, what would have happened if they'd never found the body? If they'd reached the summit and shared a quiet moment, with just the breeze from the sea and the quiet of nature around them?

"Okay, well, you're right. We do have a case. But, you're really not going to explain to me why you have a toy chest in your office?"

"It's not a toy chest," Danny says, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Sure, not that kind of toy chest, at least."

When Danny cocks an eyebrow, confused, Steve gives him a filthy smile. "Oh." Danny's starting to think he should invest in some goth makeup. Put on a nice thick layer of white to cover the unhealthy number of blushes Steve regularly inspires.

It's not until they're in the car that Steve notes, in that I-want-you-to-fill-in-some-blanks-for-me tone, "You don't seem to like Jenna Kaye."

"Did you offer her the same deal you did last time?" Danny asks. 

Eyes cutting sideways, Steve takes glances at Danny's face as he confirms, "Yeah, she's going to be working out of headquarters for a while. Trying to get a bead on Wo Fat."

"Do you have plans to meet her at a café today?"

"No. Onofun Noodle House, tomorrow night. Why?"

Danny digs his little notebook out of his pocket and writes in big letters "BUGGED."

Steve cocks an eyebrow.  _What_?

Danny waves at the car, then reaches into his other pocket to pull out his blocky cell phone and shakes it, then thumbs back at HQ. Then shrugs. He has no idea how Wo Fat found out about the meet last time. Then he mimes biting into a slice of toast and cocks an eyebrow.

Understanding the reference, Steve nods once, decisively. 

Good talk. 

And the case continues. 

Business as usual, except for a few Danny-steered short cuts. In a lot of ways, Danny hates this brand of cheating. It's like having all the answers to a math test where you've still got to show your work. He doesn't like working from memory. Doesn't like the possibility of his skills dulling. 

Also, they haven't had a good long moment to rope Chin and Kono in on this. Some of the leaps in logic Danny tries to feed them to skip the red herrings and false leads so that they can get to the meat of the case and not pull overtime (for once), are very far-fetched. Only by the grace of Steve do things get done on Danny's reduced schedule.

The cousins are starting to look less confused and more pissed as time passes. However, Chin's conflict over the IA investigation into the missing money means time's run out. 

At the end of the work day, Danny catches Kono and Chin before they can leave. "Hey, guys, you got a moment?"

The cousins share a look and finally Chin says, "Sure, Danny." 

Toast passes them, arms heavy with bags of lollipops and boxes of Captain Crunch. "Thanks for these, man," he says, bumping an elbow gently into Danny's side. "Like the tie, by the way."

Danny's pretty sure the kid's teasing him, again with the  _kamaaina_. Toast's flat, mellow monotone lends Danny no clues, though. "And the office?"

"Clean. Your phones too."

"Thanks, Toast," Danny salutes.

Once the kid's out the door, Danny leads them to the conference room where Steve is standing over the bag with Chin-event reminders. 

A few re-numbered monopoly bills in the bag; a little brown-haired doll and a postcard from Mexico with approximated coordinates written on the back; a sailboat with a date painted on the prow, with an Adam-looking lego-gangster at the wheel; a lego ambulance with a picture of a sailboat pasted to the undercarriage. 

Yes, Danny decided to use a lot of toys, because they were cheap and he can always pretend the collection belongs to Grace. 

Kono sits down at the table, intrigued.

Suspicious, Chin stands with his arms crossed, face unreadable. 

"So, Bossman, you finally going to fill us in on the stuff you guys' have been hiding?" Kono asks. She's eyeing Steve, because he's by far the more likely offender when it comes to keeping things classified.

Steve shrugs. "Not my call. I'm only a few pages ahead of you. It's Danno who's holding the book." 

That gets eyebrows. 

"Don't worry, the world's still spinning on it's axis." He thumbs at Steve. "He'd be behind the wheel if there wasn't welve years of information to get at, and no easy way to access it."

Blank looks. No surprise there.

Danny picks up the bag of reminders and pulls out a stapled set of monopoly bills with Markum written on the back and hands it to Chin. 200,000 total. 

He counts the four orange bills, paling when he realizes the sum. "What is this?" He asks, voice sharp.

Hmm...not a good start. Chin's glaring at him. Kono just looks perplexed. And Steve's staring at him like he's watching Danny try to feed steak to a gold fish. Just wrong overall. 

"Oh, please, you want to take a stab at it?" Danny waves him forward. "By all means. I'd love to hear you explain this without sounding like a complete nutcase."

Note to self: Steve is competitive enough to fall for the adult equivalent of the Quiet Game. 

Hand finding purchase on his belt in a more relaxed approximation of the Superman pose, as is his wont, Steve steps up to the challenge. 

Of course, instead of sounding like a rerun of the Twilight Zone, Steve distributes the same Hawaiian fever dream Kool-Aid to Chin and Kono, and they, being their spiritual Hawaiian selves,  _drink_ the Kool-Aid. 

Honestly, it's a good thing this mystic shit isn't the other way around. If someone tried showing up on Danny's doorstep with predictions of the future, they'd be locked in a very nice padded room by now while Danny would be off remaking all the same mistakes he'd been warned against. 

"So, this," Chin flips through the currency. "What does it mean?" He's holding it like it's a token rather than something Danny put together while ransacking the boardgame collection Steve's got in his attic.

"The money," Danny starts, but a memory is kicking him in the back of the head. He looks at Kono. Then at Chin. The cousins aren't exchanging the "We're mind-reading, don't interrupt us" look like they do when they're on the same page and want to confirm it. "Um, actually...I think you and Kono need to have a talk, first. About your Aunt Mele. Come back and find me before you do anything about that...monopoly money."

Kono looks ready to pounce with the questions, but Chin's a good man, very level-headed and easy-going. Expression serious, he cocks his head at the door, taking Danny's word that the 200K is going to be relevant to him soon and that Kono should know before it comes out some other way. 

It's a lot of trust they're giving him. 

Danny knows that trust is a gift. And he appreciates it more than he's willing to admit. But, just because they trust him doesn't mean they're not a little salty at being kept out of the loop for so long. Two months on a calendar isn't terribly long, but in Five-0 time, it's practically a decade. 

So, he tries to be equally forgiving when, as she's standing up to follow her cousin out, Kono asks, all sly, "Is that why you've been switching around all our orders?"

In his spare time, Danny used to play poker. Back in Jersey, because he knew where he could hone his skills without getting his head shot off by a sore loser. So, his face stays convincingly blank at the rookie's observation.

"What orders?" Steve asks, turning to Danny.

Unfortunately, Chin's not above exacting some of his own revenge. Knowingly, he adds, "You should stop, brah. The guys from HPD are starting to ask if you've got Battered Housewife Syndrome because of all the bruises you've been collecting."

"What  _bruises_?!" 

Shifting away from Steve, Danny bites his fist. Not good.

"Well, goodnight, Bossman. Danny. Think it's about time we headed out. Don't stay up too late. Even though it sounds like you two have a  _bit more to talk about,_ " Kono singsongs.

"Hey, why am I the one getting punished? It's not like SuperSEAL couldn't have given you guys the broad strokes earlier. I hardly had anything to contribute to this conversation!" Danny tries to follow them out, thinking maybe if he's mid-discussion, he won't have to engage in the one Steve wants to rope him into. 

Except, it's after hours. They're all friends. And Steve is an asshole.

Irregardless of their location, or the presence of their mutual friends and coworkers, Steve hauls Danny off his feet and into a chair with one powerful arm. He makes it look embarrassingly easy. Hell, who knows? Maybe there's some physics trick that all the ninjas know that  _makes_ the move easy. All Danny really registers is that now he is in a chair, trapped in a conference room with McGarrett between him and the door, and the cousins are laughing. 

"Well, goodnight to you too," he mutters. 

Chin and Kono just give him the stupid shaka sign and peace out. 

Once they're gone, Steve glares down at Danny. "You wanna talk about this here, or my place?"

Which either translates to,  _this is going to be a long conversation_  or  _choose a place to sleep, because you're not driving afterwards_. Might very well be both. 

"Depends. Am I going to be talking to my boss or my friend?" 

"Both," Steve says, zero hesitation. 

"Here," Danny decides. He's not sure what Steve will say to him once he knows about the stunts he's been pulling, but Steve's house doesn't need any more bad memories for either of them. 

"Okay." Steve sits down in the chair beside Danny, but then swivels both chairs so they face each other. They're close. As in, abnormally close. Danny's knees brush the edge of Steve's chair, trapped on both sides by Steve's stupid giraffe legs.

"Seriously? What, you think I'm going to lead you on a chase through HQ?"

Steve crosses his arms. "You've done it once already."

"When I thought you were  _dead_!"

McGarrett shrugs. Apparently, seeing a ghost-Steve is not an extenuating circumstance in his book. 

"The orders, Danny. Explain what Kono said." 

"It's nothing much. No big deal." Said every guilty person ever. Danny wants to smack himself.

"Great. Then you won't mind telling me about it," Steve says.

Sighing, he admits, "There's been a few times when I asked Kono or Chin to switch with me. Except I made it sound less like a request and more like a dictate from on high. You being the On High."

"Why would you do that, Danny? Especially without talking to me first?" 

"Because you, my friend, are a leap now, look later kind of guy. So, a few times, when I knew a volatile situation was going to arise that would not require your special brand of ninja skills, I did my best to ensure you were far away from the rising action and, in particular, the climax. So to speak."

Unsurprisingly, Steve is furious. "You had no right to do that, Danny!"

"No, see, I had  _every_ right. I'm the only one who's seen the situation play out before. I know where the metaphorical landmines are because I've seen you step on them."

"So, what? You're stepping on them now, instead?" Steve's getting ready to pull rank. Danny has a sixth sense for it now, since Steve always used to pull it right before he did something stupid that Danny thoroughly disapproved of. 

Quickly, Danny cuts in with, "I've seen you take bullets in some of the situations I've taken a bruise of two. I'm sorry if it the truth gouges a little hole in your bloated ego, but I happen to be the better negotiator. Especially when I already know the perp's angle."

"That's not a valid argument, Danno! You could've just as easily let me know the whole truth. We could've made a plan  _together_."

For a moment, Danny sees red. The thread of their argument's escalated. He's ready to rip into Steve with a dozen different anecdotes that prove he sucks at spreading the risk around. Sucking in a breath, rant already organized into points and sub-points in his head, Danny meets Steve's eyes in challenge and...realizes it's the wrong Steve. "Oh...well, shit."

Blinking, Steve sits frozen in his chair, back stiff in preparation for a verbal assault. He waits and waits, but Danny's got nothing. "Uh, Danny?" He waves an obnoxious hand in front of his face. "You okay? You looked about ready to go off on me."

Humming, Danny nods, brow knotted in a bit of a wince. "This is going to sound stupid, but I just realized that you – as you are now – have given me no reason to think you'd take bordering-on-suicidal risks with your life."

"S-suicidal?" 

"Yeah, it was starting to feel that way, towards the end. Maybe you had a sense that the end was coming – lord knows you never shared it with me – but, before you became bed-bound, you started pulling...the  _worst_ stunts. It was like you were determined to die in a blaze of glory, and each time you survived another reckless undertaking, your frustration mounted. Which made you push even harder the next time. I was sure I was going to have to watch you die a violent death. I close my eyes and I see those last few cases, except they end differently. Max is scraping you from the pavement, or they're asking me to identify your body by the tattoos, because there's not much left above the shoulders, or they're fishing bits of you out of the ocean and scraping you off the boat propellers. And that's just the most recent shit, without taking into account all the times you ran off to faraway places and got into trouble when I wasn't there to watch your back." 

Pale, Steve bites the inside of his cheek, like he's resisting making apologies for things he hasn't done. His voice is stronger than his expression, when he says, "I understand that it's not easy, Danno. Separating the past and the present, reconciling old memories with new memories. But, we're a team. Ohana. It's entirely unacceptable for you to be manipulating us so that you're the one shouldering the most risk. For fuck's sake, Danny, I shouldn't have to remind you that, of the four of us, you're the only one with a kid to raise. You have to trust me to make the right call with the information you give me. And, hell, it might just be that I agree with you being in the line of fire more often because of the things you're able to predict and compensate for. But, I, especially, need to be in the loop on the things coming our way, because I need to ensure, much like you probably wish you could've ensured, that there's backup in the right place if something goes wrong." 

It's such a sensible, sober speech. One Danny's not used to getting from McGarrett, whose first instinct had always been to steal the reins and drive the chariot headlong into danger, a devil-may-care grin on his face. 

Why? What's different this time around? 

The most obvious difference, of course, is their foreknowledge of some events. But there's also the budding relationship between Steve and Danny...it's impossible, right? 

There's no way Danny could be that big of a factor in Steve's behaviors and the man's reintegration into law enforcement and civilian life. 

Yes, once upon a time, they'd also influenced each other – taking on some of each other's mannerisms, bending some of their values and morals towards a middle ground. Steve softening his edges while Danny became a bit more flexible to military tactics when questioning perps and in the name of expediency on bad cases. 

But, this kind of compromise from Steven? Especially in their first year together? Danny can't remember it happening. And if it did, it wasn't to this extent. With Steve sitting him down for a long chat about sharing responsibilities, like a partner rather than a dictator. 

There has to be another explanation. A piece Danny is missing. Or, maybe Steve's all talk. Only time will tell, and Danny resolves to keep an eye out for clues to explain this seemingly more equal partnership. 

"Come on," Steve says, standing. "You're staying at my place tonight, and you're going to show me all your injuries and you're going to let me take care of 'em without complaint." 

"Injuries," Danny scoffs, following his partner out. "It's a few, minor abrasions. Kids in varsity sports have got more injuries than me. I wasn't underplaying the severity, Steve."

"Don't care, Danno," Steve says, fishing Danny's keys out of his pocket. 

Traffic is light this late into the evening, so they make it to Steve's in no time at all. 

As soon as Danny's past the threshold, Steve's redirecting him away from the couch and towards the stairs. "Go up and take a shower," he commands, no nonsense. 

"Sir, yes, sir," Danny salutes, starting up the stairs with exaggerated rigidity.

Swatting his ass with a hand that's got way too much reach, Steve resists a smile. "I'd be careful with that snark, cadet. Otherwise, I just might cut the water off at three minutes."

"Good old House Rule #74. You know, Commander, if you're going to force me to take Navy showers, you might consider making them a little more Navy and a little less shower."

The innuendo startles a laugh out of Steve. The sound is heartwarming as it travels up the stairs, and filters through the rooms on the second floor. Lord knows, Steve doesn't laugh enough in his own home. 

Danny finds Steve's bedroom and strips stiffly, letting his clothes fall like breadcrumbs towards the master bath. For all that Steve claims to take Navy showers, one look at Steve's bathroom has Danny doubting him. The tub's wide and deep, perfect for languishing under a thick cloud of bubbles on chilly nights, with an empty shelf well within reach, ready and waiting for a wineglass. A tub like this might've saved Danny's marriage. 

The water pressure's also divine, but Danny doesn't tarry beneath the spray. As soon as he's clean and dry, Danny wanders over to Steve's closet and pulls out sweats and a soft, threadbare t-shirt.

Steve finds him lounging on his bed a few minutes later.

"I got you some tea, Danno," he says, placing a mug on the nightstand before heading into the bathroom.

He comes back with a stack of medicated plaster-adhesives.

"Seriously, babe, I don't need all that!"

"Ok, prove it. Take off your shirt." Steve doesn't wait for Danny to comply. Just fists the loose material at the shoulders and pulls upward, forcing Danny to raise his arms. There's a small collection of bruises, most of them a sickly rainbow along his ribs. "Not too bad," Steve admits. 

"See? Almost healed. There's really no need for those," he waves at the plasters. 

"Maybe it'd be your call if you hadn't lied to me. Now shut up, and let me see if any of these are still hot and swollen." 

Danny knows what Steve means. Bruised skin, especially when it's fresh, feels different – warm to the touch and puffier than surrounding skin – so even if you can't see a bruise, you might be able to detect it on someone. But, that phrasing...Danny blushes, hand reaching for the shirt Steve tossed down the bed.

"Are you sure you're not a blushing virgin, Danno?" Steve asks, kicking the shirt out of Danny's reach as his hands start tracing methodically over Danny's torso. 

"I have a daughter, Steven," Danny reminds him, since Steve's tone is half-serious, while shifting on the bed so that Steve can't see his back. 

A few days ago, Danny had gotten kicked a few times by a threesome before Chin and Kono had rounded the corner. It had been one of the few moments so far that he'd noticed butterfly effects. Last time around, there had been one perp with a lead pipe that he'd used to break the jewelry store's window. It had also been one of the recent cases where Danny hadn't been trying to save Steve from his own recklessness, so in his mind, they didn't count.

"Yes, I know, and she's a great kid. Takes after her father. But that doesn't mean you're not a virgin in the way that matters to us. The blushes mean you're uncomfortable, or new, or shy about some part of this," Steve says, softly, as he removes the nonstick paper from the adhesive and starts pressing it along the edge of Danny's ribs.

"It's not the sex," Danny says, exasperated by Steve's careful handling. 

Cocking a skeptical brow, Steve finishes applying the plaster to Danny's side. 

"No, really, I've done it with guys before. Granted, it was a long time ago, but that aspect is not new."

"Okay, then explain to me why you change colors anytime I start anything?" Steve says, continuing to massage Danny's skin is search of bruises.

Studying Steve's face, Danny realizes there's no getting past this conversation. By the stubborn set of Steve's jaw, he can tell anything less than a frank discussion will not be enough for Actions-speak-louder-than-words McGarrett. The irony is lost on Steve though. With a sigh, Danny admits, "It's three...no, two things."

"Three things," Steve corrects.

"Oh, really? Maybe you should tell me what they are, since you apparently know better than me."

"I don't. Can't even begin to guess. But you said three for a reason. It wasn't a mistake. And I want to hear all your 'things' now, so we can move forward without tripping over this discussion in the future."

"Well, it's three things about this whole...next step," Danny waves a hand between them, "but only two are directly relevant to a discussion about sex and why I...change colors, as you so delicately put it."

"Please tell me Thing 3 is not another distant fear," Steve groans. "Because if you're worrying about whether I can go a lifetime without sleeping with a woman or whether I'll be comfortable admitting to my Navy buddies that I'm in love with a man, I swear, Danny, I'm going to add therapy as a requirement to us having sex."

"Those are legitimate concerns, so, bravo! You're a little more empathetic than I gave you credit for, but no. I'm well aware that those are pre-marital worries. Thing 3 is more of a...well, I think it might be a deal-breaker. Which makes me think we shouldn't have sex in the first place, though I can't really predict your thoughts on the subject."

"That serious?" Steve sounds surprised, like he can't imagine a scenario where anything Danny could bring up would derail them. "Okay, if it's got the power to break us up, let's start with Thing 3."

Uncertain, Danny bites his lip. "Okay, but if we're having this out now, I need my shirt and my keys back. Also, I need you to make me a promise."

"What promise?" Steve gives Danny the shirt but bats Danny's hand away when he tries to retrieve the keys from Steve's cargo pants.

"Babe, seriously, there are some things you've never reacted well to," Danny says, donning the shirt. "Maybe I should have given you all this information sooner, but honestly? You needed to be here to capture Wo Fat. So much so, I need you to  _promise_ that you  _will_ be here, tomorrow night,  _no matter what_."

"Do you think I'm going to spontaneously combust once you tell me Thing 3? Why wouldn't I be here?"

Danny scoffs outright. "I'm pretty sure, after this conversation, you're going to call Joe and have him make arrangements to fly you out as soon as possible. Which, I am telling you, cannot be until after tomorrow. I'm not saying another word until you  _promise_ me!"

"I promise, Danno. Of course, I promise. There's no way I'd miss the chance to capture Wo Fat. I'm not sure why you think there's anything that could drag me away."

"I think Shelburne could." No hint of recognition. "Wait, you don't know about Shelburne yet?"

Steve shrugs. "Guess not."

Huh. Danny doesn't know if this is a good thing or not. "Keys, Steven. Or I won't say another word," Danny says, shifting to create more space between them.

This time, though, Steve doesn't just make his displeasure known. He reaches those stupid, overlong arms out and catches Danny around the waist before hauling him close. "Stop it, Danny. The way you're acting, it's like you think I'm going to kick you out after this conversation."

"Steve, I've seen you take off with no warning over things related to your Champ Box. And I'm pretty sure you're going to be pissed that I didn't tell you sooner. However, I stand by my decision. I wasn't there at the noodle shop, so it didn't stand out in my memory of the Wo Fat saga. You told me about Wo Fat cornering you at the noodle shop, but I'd forgotten about it until I saw Jenna, like a herald of the chaos to come. In fact, I'd rather wait till we definitely have Wo Fat before I tell you about Thing 3, because the damage this one guy does, the cost to you personally if we don't catch him now...you can't  _begin_ to imagine. We need to capture and contain him as soon as possible. And I'm afraid that once I tell you about Shelburne, it's all you're going to be thinking about."

Danny's not expecting Steve to listen to him. Thing 3 is all the BIG things he hasn't told Steve yet, the most important of them being Doris. He meets Steve's eyes in challenge, waiting for him to make his case. Convince Danny that it's a good idea to tell him his Mom's probably living a clandestine life in Japan. 

Agitated, Steve rubs his hair roughly, but his other arm is a gentle band that squeezes Danny in reassurance. "I gotta admit, Danny, it kills me that you've got something you're convinced is a deal-breaker up your sleeve, but I trust your judgment." 

Staring at the man in wonder, Danny asks, "Who are you and what did you do with Steve McGarrett?"

Steve kisses Danny's temple. "It's only one more day, Danno. Tomorrow, we'll arrest Wo Fat and, after we celebrate a job well done with the team, we'll just have this discussion again."

Danny chuckles without humor. It feels like he's been given a stay of execution. One last day to enjoy the Steve he'd never known. He doesn't know what tomorrow holds, but the pit in his stomach is enough to convince him it's nothing good.

"So, what about Thing 1 and Thing 2?"

"Seriously? You want to keep talking?"

"No, I'd rather do something more intimate," Steve says, hot against Danny's ear. "But before we go any further, I want to know what's making you uncomfortable."

"Hey, I never said anything about discomfort. Yeah, my paste-white Jersey skin occasionally turns unflattering colors, but that doesn't mean I'm uncomfortable."

"So, in other words, you're shy?"

Pinching Steve in the side until the man loosens his hold, Danny shifts so that they're sitting face to face. "It's really not some great mystery, babe. Thing 1 and Thing 2 are related, and both have to do with the uniqueness of this situation. You have to understand, I'm not just in my 30's. Mentally, I've got twelve years on you. Every time I look in the mirror, I'm surprised how many wrinkles I'm missing. So, it feels a little late in life to be flipping the tables on how I have sex."

"You just told me you'd slept with men before."

"Yeah, half a lifetime ago, in college. Those guys barely knew what they were doing. Thing 1, you're a lot handsier and a lot more explicit about this. I'm used to hiding behind closed doors or talking in innuendo with guys. And, even with women, my partners were never as open nor as adventurous as you seem to be."

"Is that bad?" Steve asks, softly. Like the answer is paramount. It's clear as day how invested he is in Danny's answer. 

It's a nice feeling, to be able to look Steve in the eyes and answer honestly, "Just the opposite, babe. It's fantastic, and fucking hot. It's just going to be a long time before I can do those things with you without blushing." 

The blinding smile Steve shoots him is heart-warming.

Danny continues, "As for Thing 2, you're an outlier for me, babe. I've only ever seriously dated women, and the ones who were interested in me tended to have very diminutive figures. It's a new experience – being pursued, being embraced by someone with a back that's broader than mine and who stands a head taller, to be the one getting protected more often than not. It's just new. And a part of me feels conflicted. I've always been the big brother, the provider, the cop. I've always shouldered my own problems, on top of the burdens other people handed me. I'm used to being independent and learning how to deal under increasingly heavier loads. So, when you poke and prod and trick me into sharing those burdens with you, a part of me feels like a failure. Like I'm letting you down. And I  _hate_ that feeling." 

As if it the space between them is a physical torment to him, as soon as Danny signals with an eyeroll that he'll allow it, Steve reels him back into the circle of his arms so that they're sitting with Danny's back against Steve's chest. "You shouldn't have that feeling," Steve murmurs against his skin. "Fuck, Danno, it would hurt me if you didn't let me help. It makesme happy when you trust me to be your support.  And don't think I haven't noticed just how mutual that feeling is. Anytime I have a 'face' or seem less than happy, you pull every trick in the book to get me to unload my burdens. You do everything in your power to make me happy, sometimes to your own detriment."

"Yeah, yeah," Danny waves, hoping he can dispel the serious mood. For a day that started out at a geek convention, it's hours were spent on entirely too many somber conversations. "I'm already kind of stuck on you. Provided you don't ditch me at the first hurdle, I'm resigned to try to get over my issues for the sake of a strong relationship." 

Another blinding grin, followed by quick, chaste kisses up his neck. "Even if I have to boost you up over the hurdles, there's no way I'm leaving you behind, Danno." 

"Thing 3," Danny warns, sharpening the reminder with a pinch to Steve's arm, as the trail of kisses gets retraced with Steve's tongue. 

"Thing 3's not going to change my mind, Danny."

"You don't know that. A few days from now, we – "

" - will be sitting just like this, together, except I'm going to be whispering, 'I told you so' between kisses," Steve interrupts. 

"I really hope so, babe." 

"You don't have to hope, Danno, because I'm going to make you a second promise." 

Startled, Danny cranes his neck around so he can study Steve's expression, looking for the hint of playfulness that'll indicate Steve's just trying to forestall Danny's paranoia. But there's no playfulness to be found. Steve's actually offering a promise – which is something he hardly ever does. He's not a man who takes promises lightly. 

"Even if Thing 3 makes me want to strangle you or freeze you out, I promise that after you tell me, we'll both still have jobs at Five-0, I'll still be there anytime you or Gracie need me, and, even if we have to work backwards to friendship and easy camaraderie, I won't give up on getting us back."

 The fact that Steve doesn't promise true love and instant forgiveness settles something deep inside of Danny. It sounds like a contract, real and honest. Something that might come with provisions and hard work. 

This Steve is too perceptive by half. 

"You know me too well," Danny says, a little grudgingly. 

"Not well enough," Steve says, planting a light kiss behind Danny's ear. "I'd like to get to know you  _better_ , if you don't mind." 

"Thing 3," Danny growls, because he feels like he's said it enough that Steve should believe him when he says it's got deal-breaking potential. And that should worry Steve, if only for the abandonment and the trust issues. 

"You know, they call oxytocin the bonding hormone. It's released by the pituitary gland during sex," Steve says, voice deepening into a persuasive rumble. 

"Do you really think, after everything I've implied, that sleeping together's a good idea?"

"That depends. Let's assume the worst-case scenario – that Thing 3 will destroy the possibility of us having a more intimate relationship. Can you go back to being just friends if we have sex tonight?"

"Yes." Danny doesn't even have to think about it. He's been in love with Steve McGarrett for over a decade. He's had to share the man with plenty of people over the years. He can do it again. As long as Steve's safe and happy, Danny doesn't care how big or small his role is in SuperSEAL's life.

"That's very good news, Danno, because I'm at the end of my rope. Seeing you laid out on my bed, half-naked –" He bucks his hips against Danny, letting him feel just how much he's straining beneath the baggy cargo pants. "Strip for me, babe."

The heat in Steve's voice is infectious, Danny decides, as his blood visibly warms beneath his skin. His pulls off the shirt he borrowed slowly, in a bit of a tease, but making sure Steve's focus remains on his front rather than the black and blue boot-prints stamped into his back.

Humming, Steve is not satisfied. "Pants too, Danno. I want to see the outline of your dick in those tight briefs you wear."

"Um... I figured I'd be laundering these," Danny waves at the sweats.

Surprised at the seeming non-sequitur, Steve cocks an eyebrow. "Okay?"

"Point being, I am not wearing any underwear," Danny admits. We feels weird about it. Not just because his naked cock is leaking precum into Steve's sweatpants, but also because of the sensation of wearing the oversized clothing. His dick is hanging free, cocooned by cotton, the very slight breeze from the open widow seeping through the thin material. 

"Fuck Danny, what are you trying to do to me?" Steve groans. But the guy's a hypocrite, because the next moment, he pulls on the elastic and tugs the waistband of Danny's pants down.  

Down. Not off.

Just far enough that the band is caught beneath Danny's balls, leaving him on display for Steve's hungry gaze. 

"Look at you, babe," Steve husks against Danny's ear. "You're  _wet_." Softly, he thumbs over the slit of Danny's dick, collecting a sample of pre-ejaculate, and then licks it off his finger. "And so fucking delicious."

"Dammit Steve, don't say it like that," Danny says, trying to cover a whimper. 

"You're leaking, Danny. How else do you want me to say it?" 

"Please, just say  _anything_ else. Or better yet, stop talking!" Danny says, wishing he could melt into the floorboards. The narration is killing him, spiking both his arousal and embarrassment clear off the charts.

"Shh. baby," Steve says, rocking against him. "This is a good thing." He slides over Danny's head again, this time coating two fingers, which he then feeds into Danny's mouth and leaves them there. "Suck," he orders. 

With those stupid, overlong fingers massaging his tongue, Danny has no way to stage a protest. Not that he really wants to, but it's the principle of the thing. If he lets Steve be this... _vociferous_ , the man's going to take it as a green light. 

And Danny has no doubt that anything Steve dares to say during sex, he'll also dare to say during tense firestorm situations, when he wants to startle Danny out of yelling at him to be careful, or in text messages during boring meetings – in particular, the governor's budget meetings that Danny gets roped into with SuperSEAL, since he's the one who does most of the paperwork. 

Once Steve deems his fingers wet enough, he pulls them from Danny's mouth and traces down Danny's dick with the saliva. Then lower, so that he's got Danny's balls in his palm and those two fingers are petting the soft skin of his perineum.

Helpless in the face of that intimate warmth, Danny shift his hips and arches his back, trying to get more pressure, more friction...just, more. If anyone ever asks, Danny will deny that a few minutes of foreplay has him whimpering. "Please, babe, go faster," he begs. 

Stupid, recalcitrant SuperSEAL.

He tips Danny's head back with his other hand and licks into his mouth, matching the slow, languid pace of his fingers. 

It's not a lack of air that breaks them apart a few seconds later. 

Hissing, Steve licks the blood away from his lip where Danny's nipped him. "Bad, Danno. No biting."

Immediately, Danny bites down on the nearest available skin – right along Steve's stork-like neck – just hard enough to leave an impression of teeth.

Chuckling, Steve warns, "Bite me again, Danno, and I'll put a hicky somewhere you won't be able to hide, and then I'll spend all of tomorrow pointing it out to everyone we come across." 

"That...is a surprisingly effective threat. Well-played," Danny says. "Doesn't say much about your level of maturity, though." 

"Hmm, you think maybe if I act immature, you'll have enough of the higher ground to be at eye-level with me?" Steve jokes, breathing in the scent of Danny's hair.

"Seriously? You choose this moment, when your hand's cupping my dick, to lob a short joke at me? Are you trying to make sure we never do this ag – oh,  _fuck_." When and where did Steve get the lube from? Does he keep a tube in his  _cargo pants_?

Because, suddenly, Steve's other hand is down the back of his pants, one long, slick digit spreading lube along the rim of his hole before dipping in up to the first knuckle. 

"Hey, Danno," Steve nuzzles at Danny to get his attention. 

It's not the best moment for him to be asking Danny for rational thought, but he blinks away enough haze to hum, "Yes, Steven?"

"I want you to pick a safe word."

It takes a moment for Danny to process the request. When it finally reaches the control center of his brain, Danny scoffs, "Why would I need one?"

"You yell at me all the time without meaning it – "

"That's in serious situations," Danny interrupts.

"Our relationship  _is_ serious. We both have a lot on the line. I'm not willing to risk taking things too far in a direction you're not comfortable with," Steve says, removing his hands from inside Danny's pants in order to divest him of the last of his clothes. 

"What's wrong with just saying stop?" Danny asks, slipping his hands under Steve's shirt and trying to pull it off him. The ass still has all his clothes on. Including his socks. 

"It's too common, too short, doesn't stand out in a sentence. Also, I'm used to perps yelling stop. Which means I'm also used to ignoring the request. A safe word needs to provoke an instant reaction. Stop just doesn't cut it." 

"Okay, then what's your safe word, SuperSEAL?"

Steve takes long enough to answer that Danny wonders if he's starting to rethink going through with this. Picking a safe word is something of an admission – that sometime in the future there might be moments where Danny's in control. It wouldn't necessarily be surprising if Steve admitted that he...can't do it. 

But Steve finally says, "How about...chicken salad?"

Danny bursts out laughing.

"What?" 

"Nothing." 

Steve pokes him, unwilling to have his question go unanswered. 

"It's just, you picked that as the safe word last time."

"I thought you said we never had sex."

"It wasn't for sex. At one point, our girlfriends organized a double date-style stay-cation at a hotel. If I said the safe word, you were supposed to leave me alone with my date so that I could be romantic without you judging me."

Scoffing, Steve guesses, "There's no way I actually followed through with that." 

"You're right. You didn't. How'd you know?"

"It's one thing to know the love of your life is dating someone else. It's another thing entirely to enable it."

Danny thinks about the way Steve had thrown his arm over his shoulders and played with his ear. "Yeah, you didn't just stay at the table. You actively derailed the romantic atmosphere of the beachside dinner by flirting with me and confusing our dates." Danny teases, "I don't think I want a safe word if you're going to do the opposite."

Because he's an animal, Steve nips his ear. "All joking aside, part of the reason I've been working so hard to learn how to read you is so you never have to use the safe word."

" _That's_ the reason you kept asking embarrassing questions?"

"Those were just normal questions about your past sexual exploits."

"No, my friend. Normal questions don't sound like the dirtiest lines in a porno script." 

"You must watch the tamest pornos, Danno." Steve shakes his head. "I'll do my best to catch you up." 

Done with Steve's teasing, Danny unzips Steve's cargo pants. "Well, you're the one who needs catching up at the moment. You're kind of overdressed, babe."

"You still haven't picked a safe word," Steve reminds him, easily shucking pants, underwear, and socks in one move. 

Resisting a sigh, Danny shrugs. "How did you choose yours?"

"It was my Mom's signature dish. She used to make it for every picnic and every pot luck. Chicken salad, for me, means wholesome, family moments. It's an instant kill switch on all things sexy." 

"Ok, works for me." 

"Are you sure? It has to be something you'll remember to say in a bad moment."

"Oh, trust me. There's no way I'll forget. Remind me sometime to tell you about that weekend. I think you'd enjoy hearing how I unintentionally turned it into the least romantic stay-cation imaginable." 

Kissing the corner of his mouth, Steve says, "I'll hold you to that." Then, he nudges Danny to lay down as he gets out of the way. "Lay down. On your front," he qualifies, when Danny just reposes, still perched up on his elbows. "What?" Steve asks, catching wide eyes the second before Danny schools his face.

"I...uh, like this position better." 

"For what? You don't even know what I'm going to do yet."

"I can guess," Danny says dryly.

"Well, guess again."

"Maybe we should keep tonight simple? Especially, with Thing 3 looming over our heads."

Steve cocks and eyebrow, starting to get suspicious. He senses Danny's hiding something, but can't figure out why it's coming up now. "Seems like Thing 3 is an even bigger reason to drink our fill tonight, so that we're satiated for a while if you're deal-breakingly right. Now, turn over," he gestures 'roll over' with a finger and, for some reason, Danny can just tell there's an ' _or I'll do it for you'_  silently being added.

His eyes are locked with Steve's, so he knows the man sees him swallow hard. But there's no point dragging this out. He flips to lay on his chest. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, Steve leans over him, big hands gentling over the 3-D elevation map that's Danny's back. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me about this?" He hisses, immediately reaching for the adhesive. "Do you need ice for any of these? How recently did you get them?"

"I got them yesterday. Ice won't do me any good at this point," Danny says, and takes a moment to explain the circumstances. 

"Where was I when this was going down?" 

"In the jewelry store, trying to keep the manager's insides from becoming his outsides before the ambulance arrived. It really isn't as bad as it looks. Chin and Kono got there as soon as they'd driven the getaway driver off the road."

"Well, it looks really fucking bad, so that's not much of a reassurance," Steve mutters, laying down another strip of plaster. "By the time I'm done. you're going to look like a mummy from behind. Hell, Danny, you were going to lay on these a second ago. I could've hurt you. I mean, I would've noticed them tomorrow, anyways. Why didn't you just tell me?" 

Danny can see Steve's furrowed brow and deep frown without looking at him. "Sorry, babe, this is Thing 2 again – sharing the burden. I swear, I'll work on it, because I understand your point of view. If you were injured, even if it's just bruises, I'd still want to know. It just didn't seem like a big deal when we were sitting up. I didn't really consider that it might be important information if we're going to be horizontal." 

As he presses on the last plaster (it feels like Danny's whole back is covered with the pull of adhesive), Steve sucks a kiss onto the nape of Danny's neck, teasing with his teeth. "You in pain?" He asks, petting Danny's sides. 

Danny hears it as an offer to stop and rest for the night. "No, babe. And if you're not tired, I don't want to stop. I don't know about you, but I'll feel a lot of regret if we miss our chance."

Steve's voice does something between a growl and a groan, his bite a little sharper on Danny's neck. "This isn't  _our chance_. It's the first of many fantastic nights spent together. But, hey, I'm not one to turn down a free meal." 

" _Free meal_? What is that? You make it sound like this is a booty call." 

Steve hums. "If you don't want it to sound smutty, then move in with me. But, speaking of booty..." Steve purposely scrapes his stubble over Danny's ass. "You're skin's still so pale, Danno. It's so easy to make it change color."

"Stop being a dick, Steven. I don't need stubble burn below the belt."

Humming again, Steve licks at the skin he's rouged, before moving lower.

Danny figures he knows this next part. Stretch, lube, fuck. Three steps and they're done. Doesn't seem too complicated. Trying to stay relaxed, Danny's waiting for Steve to re-slick his stupidly long fingers and press inside. So, he nearly comes off the bed in surprise when Steve pulls his hips up, higher, spreads his cheeks apart, and licks a long stripe from perineum to asshole.

"What...are you  _doing_?!" Danny asks, between panting breaths. This is not anything he's done, with either man or woman. 

"Rimming," Steve says, between laps and spearing licks at Danny's hole. Steve's hot, wet tongue easily penetrates him, sliding in with relative ease past the muscle there.

But, fuck, Danny didn't need a word to describe what's being done to him. What he needs is a heart transplant and skin that isn't turning burgundy. It's too much. The soft, wet, heat that's prodding inside him in an unpredictable tempo is making his dick throb. 

It's somehow worse when Steve replaces his tongue with two, long lube-chilled fingers, and the fucker starts narrating. "Oh, yeah, babe, look at you. So good, taking two fingers already. You're so tight, Danny, which is a real travesty. An ass like yours has got to be sensitive," he says, just as his fingers find Danny's prostate. 

Danny can't help the way his whole body twitches, bucking backwards onto Steve's fingers. He has no control over the whine of his vocal chords as Steve takes his fingers away.

"Shh, babe. I won't leave you empty long." Steve says, laying sideways beside him, a hand on Danny's ass. "It's a damn shame that you're ever empty. First thing tomorrow, I'm getting you a butt plug. You can wear it when we're home alone together on the weekends. You have no idea how much I want to fill you up with my come, sit you on a plug, and make you keep it in all day. Maybe add to it every few hours. I like the idea of my cum in you, of you keeping it warm so I can eat you out later."

"Please, please, please shut up and fuck me already!" Danny says, practically burning at the images being whispered into his ear. As far as Danny knows, these are not his kinks. So, why is this the best sex he's ever had? 

Mercifully, Steve fucks three fingers into him, still languid, but at least it seems to be going somewhere. Fingers scissoring Danny open so he'll be loose enough to take his dick.

Danny feels the weight of Steve's gaze as it moves between watching Danny take his fingers and just watching Danny. 

"You're beautiful like this, Danno. I never get to see you vulnerable. Never get to watch you unravel and unwind like this. I don't think you realize just how big a gift you're giving me right now. And, I can't believe there's a version of me who went a lifetime and never got to have this – to see you arch your back and moan for more. You bring up old girlfriends or Thing 3 like you think there's something that could convince me to leave you." Steve leans in to kiss him at the same time as he adds a fourth finger. "You're an idiot, Danno." 

And then Steve's sitting up. He takes his fingers out with teasing slowness, catching lightly at the rim, before slicking himself up. 

"Up, Danno," he orders, pulling Danny onto his knees while the hand on the back of his neck ensures Danny stays hugging his pillow. "Your knee alright?" Steve asks, studying Danny for any signs of pain. 

"I'm good, babe," Danny says, trying not to grind his teeth in frustration. He's so hard, he could cut diamonds with his dick. After so many weeks of Steve teasing them both, going slow, and never satisfying either of them to completion, any additional delay is –

Holding Danny's cheeks spread, Steve slowly feeds the head of his cock into Danny. "Fuck, I've been waiting so long for this. I don't think you have any idea how many times I saw you bend over these past few months and all I could think about was fucking you. Feeling you, tight and warm, around me. I've never considered sex especially intimate until I started thinking about what it would be like to unwrap you from your ties and your long-sleeved shirts and those fucking dress pants. To finally see you naked, to taste your skin, and to feel you from the inside."

Months? Danny wants to laugh. It's been so many years for Danny. This still only feels half-real. Even as Steve sets a driving pace that's finally fast enough to feel as impatient as Danny's been, even as his back twinges, adhesive pulling at his skin, and with Steve nailing his prostate on every pass, Danny's still terrified of the orgasm that's building inside of him. A voice whispering, what if this is the proverbial kiss that breaks the spell? 

What if this is goodbye?

Steve somehow senses the change in mood from Danny's end, because he suddenly threads his fingers through Danny's hair and an arm wraps around his waist, pulling him fully onto his knees. "What's your safe word?" Steve tests as his hips stutter to a halt.

"I'm not feeling unsafe," Danny says, sinking himself onto Steve's dick. If he has to do this himself – Well, he obviously won't be allowed to until he answers the question, Steve's arm tightening so that Danny's left seated in Steve's lap. "Chicken salad," he growls, exasperated. 

Trailing kisses down his jawline, Steve says, "Stop thinking, Danno." As Steve resumes his pace, lube-wet fingers trail down to take up the task of pulling and massaging Danny's nipples into hardened nubs, while Steve's other hand switches between fondling Danny's balls and spreading Danny's precum over his dick. 

Danny only lasts another half minute, every part of him prickling with electricity and heat before all his muscles tighten for a long five-count and then release. 

Steve fucks him through his orgasm, but his pace gets choppy, his breathing uneven. He lasts another fifteen seconds with Danny purposely bearing down and squeezing the muscles in his ass before he cums with the sweetest whimper, head dropping to Danny's shoulder. 

It hurts Danny that he doesn't get to see it, but he refuses to let himself think about how this might be his only chance. Hell, he's lucky to have had the chance in the first place. Though, he's not sure if it isn't just as cruel to show him what he's missed out on and then take it away posthaste. So, instead of thinking of impossible, uncontrollable things, he considers more practical next steps. 

He figures shower, down the cold tea on the nightstand, brush teeth, and, because it's Steve, sleep over.

Because it's Steve, none of it happens quite like that. 

Apparently, Steve really does like the idea of Danny being full of him. Without pulling out, he lays them down, spooning on the bed, whispers "See you in the morning, Danno," hot against Danny's ear, and presses a kiss to Danny's temple before falling asleep. 

Instantly, he's dead to the world. Danny wonders if it's a skill the Navy teaches all its recruits, or if it's a Steve-ism. In any case, in this moment, it's disconcerting. 

At least there's Steve's heavy heartbeat thrumming not far from his ear, loud enough to drown out the ocean waves outside. If he wasn't so tired, nearing the eye-burn headache stage, Danny knows his fears would keep him up. But, tonight, he falls asleep to a newly made memory and the proof of Steve, alive and well, inside him. 

The first thing Danny registers is the heat – not the source – just that he'd love a glass of ice water because so much of his current sensory perception is heat. 

Immediately after that, he realizes that the rest of him feels...strange. Besides the ache of his bruised back or the weight that's got his legs trapped and his hips pinned, he feels vague feelings of pressure and fullness in parts of himself he hasn't been aware of those parts in a very long time. 

He shifts, because the weirdness of this morning is enough to make him uncommonly alert for this early in the day. The move has him seeing stars. His mouth pops open in surprise as he moans at the sensation.

"You okay, Danno?" Steve murmurs into his hair, pulling him back, tight against himself.

"You're still inside me?!"

Steve hums, like this isn't a problem.

"You're hard!" And though Danny doesn't really mean it as an accusation, his surprise makes his voice sharp. 

Nuzzling Danny's neck, he says, "It's morning. We're both hard." As if Danny needs the proof, he wraps a hand around Danny's dick and squeezes gently. 

"We have to go to work. After a shower. And breakfast," Danny reminds. "Also, it's Wo Fat day." Because Danny needs a list to persuade himself that they don't have the time for morning sex. 

Guessing at the point Danny's driving, Steve says, "You're staying with me tonight." 

"Shit, all my clothes are at my place," Danny realizes, eyeing the clock, trying to figure out if he has time to stop home for a change of clothes.

"Move in with me," Steve says without sympathy as he finally pulls out. "Fuck, see, this is why you need a butt plug. You're so loose right now. I could just slide back inside you, easy. Huh...you blush real pretty in the mornings, Danno."

"You're an ass. I shouldn't be surprised that your mouth's as unfair as the rest of you," Danny says, finally getting up. Fuck, he can feel himself dripping. 

Thankfully, Steve heads down to make breakfast, letting Danny have the first shower. Again, he doesn't tarry. He's determined to speed through the morning with the hopes that it'll set a tone for the rest of the day. Even though it's just begun, he needs it to be over. 

Once they get to HQ, driving separately for once, it's obvious that Chin and Kono really believed everything he told them last night. Kono's a little snippy with Chin but, then, they're all tense.

Five-0 is playing this mission close to the vest.

 On Danny's recommendation, they don't tell Jenna that they're tailing her throughout the day. She's probably not a mole, but Danny doesn't trust her after what her future counterpart did in dragging Steve to North Korea. Despite all that Steve had done for her, she'd been ready to trade him in like spare parts for her fiancé on the 'good word' of an internationally infamous criminal. 

When it comes time for Steve and Jenna to meet at the noodle house, it's Chin and Danny tailing her in a nondescript black van. Kono in the meantime is already on the phone with backup. Hidden behind the lip of the rooftop on the other side of the street, she's got her sniper trained at the table where Steve's sitting. He looks deceptively relaxed on the feed being routed to the tablet in Danny's lap – courtesy of Toast. 

Halfway to the noodle shop, Danny hears Steve say over the com, "Incoming," and a thin, wiry figure enters frame from the kitchen. 

Kono relates the information to the HPD units on standby, directing them to cover the back and side exits of the noodle shop. Everyone's keeping their eyes peeled for suspicious persons loitering in the area. 

One of the patrol cars spots two men in business suites standing in an alley, both with hands cupped to an ear, as if listening to headsets. 

"Keep eyes on them, but make sure they don't see you. We'll bag them later, after we've got Wo Fat in handcuffs. We don't want to tip him off in case his guys are keeping him in the loop," Danny says over the radio, as he watches the scene inside the restaurant play out on the tablet.

Volume turned low, he hears Wo Fat's soft-spoken voice say, "Do you honestly believe that I would come here without some assurance of my safety?" 

"Where's Agent Kaye?" Steve asks. This time around, he's not holding a gun on Wo Fat, both hands resting on the tabletop. He also plays up the worry, glancing out the window over Wo Fat's shoulder, as if to look for her. 

"Heading East, on Kapiolani Boulevard. Driving a silver Malibu. But who can really say? In any case, I'm sure she'll make it here without incident." 

Steve hums questioningly over the mic hidden in his collar.

"He's right, though we haven't seen any sign that Jenna's being followed. Toast had a family emergency today, so he couldn't check whether any of her stuff was bugged. That might be how he's tracking her. We're pulling her over now," Danny reports. 

Taking the cue, Chin turns on the sirens while Steve continues the conversation with Wo Fat, waiting for the signal that Jenna's safely been transferred to their nondescript van. 

Slowly, Jenna pulls over and turns on the overhead light in her car. It's a move a lot of law enforcement officers make to put their colleagues at ease. 

In this case, though, Danny winces, imagining some sharpshooter in the shadows taking aim right now. "Keep the engine running," he says, getting out of the car.

It's a quick extraction.

Jenna's startled but, to her credit, she doesn't argue or demand immediate answers. Just calmly exits her vehicle and speed walks to the van, correctly interpreting the severity of the situation.

"We've acquired the package," Chin says over the mic once they're on the road again.

"What's going on?" Jenna asks, taking Chin's announcement as an indicator that the danger's past.

As Chin fills her in, Danny goes back to watching the feed from the noodle shop. This is it. The moment of truth. His stomach is in knots as he watches Steve stands, unholstering his gun, and points it at Wo Fat. 

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you –" Steve starts to recite. 

Wo Fat scoffs. "Is Agent Kaye's life worth so little to you?"

Danny immediately gives orders over the radio for the nearest officers, Palakiko and Kapule, to arrest the guys in the alley.

"You're bluffing," Steve says, because he doesn't want Wo Fat to panic. If the man has no magic tricks up his sleeve, then he's totally boned. Surrounded on all sides by Five-0 and HPD, his leverage safe in the backseat of the government van. 

"Really? You think so? Well, in that case, I think you have a new crime scene to investigate." The man sounds so smug as he rises from his seat to face Steve. Danny still can't see his face, but even his posture looks amused. 

Probably because there's a sudden noise, back from the direction where they'd left Jenna's car. The plume of smoke that marks what will likely be the wreckage of Jenna's car is hard to make out over the dark Hawaiian night sky. 

Chin doesn't turn the car around. Their first priority is getting Jenna away from the car Wo Fat was tracking. 

Gunfire bursts through the speakers of the tablet. The sound is faint.

"Wo Fat's men have opened fire," Kono reports. 

"Let HPD take care of it," Danny says at the same time Steve orders, "Go, I've got him." 

The gunfire and Steve's out of place dialog are enough for a man as clever as Wo Fat to clue in. His posture visibly changes as he takes note of the transparent ear piece Steve's wearing. Thank fuck, the man's out of cards. All he asks as Steve puts him in handcuffs is, "How did you know?" 

It's not safe to rest. 

Wo Fat's too calm for a man facing life in prison. 

Danny's not surprised. He's got Jameson and Jenna to manipulate, underground contacts to call in favors with, and the kind of money that can buy civil wars, corrupt governments, and still have enough for the lap of luxury. He can't predict the future, obviously, but he's a detective. He can make an educated guess. 

Be it by hook or by crook, Wo Fat will eventually get free. 

When he does, he'll come gunning for Steve. Because he's the son of the woman who killed his father, raised him, and then left him for another family. 

And, even if history repeats itself and Steve kills him first, the damage he'll cause will be psychologically scarring, if not permanent. 

So, there's really only one thing to do. 

They've got Wo Fat sequestered in the concrete basement of Five-0, as per Danny's adamant 'suggestion'. Shackled to a bolted-down chair behind a reinforced door and surrounded by earth and concrete on all sides, he's as powerless as a man like Wo Fat can ever be. 

Danny walks into the interrogation room with a gun on his hip, safety strap undone. It's against the rules, for obvious reasons. You don't bring an unsecured weapon into an enclosed space with a suspect present. The precaution is meant to keep both the suspects and the officers safe. 

The clever bean that is Wo Fat notices immediately. 

"How can I help you, Detective Williams?" He asks, his infernally smug smile present. 

"Yes, very impressive, you know my name. I'm sure you know a lot about my family too." It's the thought of Grace that makes him hesitate. It's the reason his hand covers his gun. To be so close to a permanent solution, when this man is putting the people he loves in danger...so fucking tempting. And Danny's just so fucking human. 

He'd been sick when he murdered Reyes. 

Not the "go to the doctor, because you're going to infect everyone in the office" kind of sick. The kind that started with feeling guilty. He's a cop. Always liked to think of himself as a good cop. It had been his whole life. He'd chosen being a cop over his marriage and over the stability of his little girl's life. And yet...

He lied to the FBI. Let his brother get away. 

What hadn't hurt so much as the betrayal of his badge, was that he knew enough to predict how it would end for Matt. It had been pie-in-the-sky to think running would save his brother. Even if he'd been a successful money launderer(?)/investor(?)/fellow gangster(?), Matt still would've been lost to him as a brother. No longer recognizable as the Matty he chained to the monkey cages at the zoo.

So, he'd been guilty for being stupid enough to let Matt get on that plane. 

That guilt had festered for years, until Reyes had shown up for his money. 

He'd done everything that was asked of him. Deciphered Matt's postcard, roped Chin into his mess for the money and Steve for his skills and transport, delivered a fuck ton of cash to Columbia, and all for a fucking oil drum? 

That fucking oil drum – the implications it had on Matt's last moments, the way they'd treated him, what they'd put him through – Danny's mind goes down dark alleys, he's familiar with Vice and organized crime cases, and he's spent enough time with Steve McGarrett to vividly imagine the horrors his brother went through. 

All of it together – Danny had been sick enough back then to pull the trigger.

Danny's killed a few people in the line of duty. Injured countless more. It hurts and you feel guilty, but there's people you can talk to about it. You've got support. People who understand and have done similarly. It's not good, but it's not entirely bad either. 

When you kill someone for revenge – especially when the heat's run out, your blood pressure has slowed, logic has returned, and yet you still pull the trigger – that's different. Like comparing an ocean to a pond. It's not just the size. Not just the salt. It's what's below the surface.

You're not the same person anymore once you've made that decision. It's easier after that, to look at a man and see a quick solution. Danny knows he could do it again. And this time, he also knows how to live with the sin. He knows how to climb out of that hole towards a semblance of a life. After all, he's done it before. A second life can't be much heavier. 

He's been quiet too long, and in that time, Wo Fat's been studying his face.

"Have you come to kill me, Detective?" He asks, still amused. He doesn't think Danny's capable. Nothing in his file would suggest he  _is_. In fact, on paper, he's as straight-laced as they come. After all, he's turned in Peterson for being a dirty cop and didn't so much as protest his brother's arrest.

"Not today," Danny says, easily. 

Wo Fat and Steve McGarrett have something more than Dorris in common. 

They're both men of obsession. 

There's no way to get the target off Steve's back. It's not in Wo Fat's DNA to let go. All you can do is either take him down or give him another target. 

Yes, Danny could kill him, but he's not willing to go to jail this time around. His capacity for empathy and the guilt that comes with it towards Wo Fat and his ilk is entirely diminished – particularly after he's already had to experience Steve's death once before. If he ever crosses paths with Wo Fat in a way that he can kill him without repercussions, he won't hesitate.

But for now, Danny paints the man a new target. It's hilariously easy. All it takes is two sentences. "I know about Shelburne. And I know where she lives."  

**Author's Note:**

> Things I listened to this time around : (I mention these because none of the people I know knew these songs / artists)
> 
> \- Kraantje Pappie - "Pompen"  
> \- BTS - "Go Go" (the halloween version is adorable; the yellow "dwarf" makes me smile at the Dolla Dolla part, because it looks so cool)  
> \- Lil Kleine - "Alleen"  
> \- Ton of Jebroer songs  
> \- Sans and Papyrus Song "To the Bone" by JT Music


End file.
